


are you sweet? are you fresh?

by escherzo



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Columbus Blue Jackets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo
Summary: @aportzline: #CBJ RW Josh Anderson on his quick return: "The docs say one week, 10 days, or two weeks. But ... young blood heals quick."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw that quote, was reminded that a. Zach is his roommate, and b. Zach is absurdly pale all the time, and look, who can blame me for putting two and two together here. Title from (because of course) "We Suck Young Blood" by Radiohead. Lou, this is your fault.

Zach is basically a human vending machine.

He’s fine with it, mostly. Or at least, in concept.

Vending machines don’t get nearly as much whining at them, though, he’s pretty sure.

*

“Zeeee, can I have a snack?”

Four or five times a day.

It’s a good thing Josh is one of his best friends, or he’d start slipping garlic into their communal meals.

*

So, okay. Rewind. Josh, rookie roommate extraordinare, is huge, perpetually tanned, and currently out with a knee injury. He’s also a vampire.

How that happened Zach isn’t quite sure. Josh gets cagey about the whole thing every time he tries to ask, which probably means it was a drunken misadventure in juniors that was kind of embarrassing for all parties involved.

And like—Zach doesn’t _mind_ being a bloodbag slash roommate, or anything. Either it’s a quirk of vampire biology or he’s just got a kink, but being fed on feels amazing, and even if every guy in the locker room chirps him about hickeys, or his excessive paleness, or both, it’s worth it. Josh heals a lot faster when he’s got regular supply, and he makes super grossed out faces at the mugs of bagged blood he heats up in the microwave when he’s not chowing down on an actual person. Apparently it just “doesn’t taste quite right.”

Privately, Zach is pretty sure Josh is just too goddamn picky for his own good, and too used to having a regular supply of eager teammates. He was, by his own admission, a super picky eater when he was still a regular human, too.

Anyway. Out with an injury, and needs to be back; Zach can feel his absence in the room, and also is not deaf and so can hear Wild Bill crabbing about how both of his regular linemates are injured and he’s getting his minutes cut to compensate for the new guys he’s getting stuck with.

So, Zach is a full-service vending machine.

*

This is not without its problems. For the record.

“So, uh. Hey, Andy? Are my fingernails supposed to be blue like this?” Zach asks, staring down at them. They’re taking a quick break from video games on a day off, and Andy is plastered along his side, but as soon as he speaks, grabs a hand and stares at it.

“Shit. Uh, no, that’s… fuck, what’s the term.”

“I don’t know, what is the term.”

“Shhhh.” Josh closes his eyes and hmms for a long moment before lighting up. “Oh! Anemia!”

“Um. Isn’t that… a bad thing.”

“Well, yeah, kinda. If you’ve been more tired lately that’s probably why. Anyway, I can fix it. I’m gonna go make dinner.”

Zach has been more tired lately. If it’s Josh’s fault, he’s not exactly thrilled at that concept, because honestly, _dude_ , already enough guys out with injury, he doesn’t need to be making it worse for anyone who isn’t on the shelf.

“It means you’re low on iron,” Josh calls from the kitchen. “Think it’s pretty normal when you have a lot of blood loss.”

So, okay. That at least is an easy fix. Zach just needs to eat more steak and less chicken for his pregame meals and he’ll be good to go. Harmless, really.

It’s too bad Josh can basically burn a steak just by thinking about cooking said steak. It’s kind of a superpower. A really, really shitty one. One of these days, or maybe in some alternate universe, they won’t both be hot garbage at cooking meals and will create edible food.

Today is not one of those days.

“You need to eat it,” Josh insists, later.

“Um,” Zach says, scraping off burnt bits with a steak knife. “Maybe I’ll just take some iron supplements.”

*

On the other hand, Josh does come back quick. It’s been a little over a week and he’s gearing up for his first game back, getting in an interview with McElligott in the morning before they play the Flyers, and he’s bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked.

Mostly rosy-cheeked because first thing in the morning, while Zach was still eating his eggs and toast, Josh came up behind him and went, “so, hey, can I?” and when Zach nodded, bit down on his neck and drank for a couple of minutes straight, Zach squirming in his seat and trying to focus on breakfast and not just grabbing Josh by the hair and holding him in place to make him keep drinking even after he was done.

“Let’s do this,” Zach says, that evening, and he isn’t fully dressed yet, still has a mark Josh can see, and Josh zeroes in on it, reaching out to stroke that mark on his neck. Zach smiles. He can’t very well help it. He’s a great roommate, alright. The best. Who else would be this self-sacrificing to make sure his teammates got back into the lineup in time?

Eat your heart out, ‘blocked shot leader’ Savvy.

*

They win. It’s an absolute slog, and Josh takes a ton of penalties, personally, but they make it though to the end, and they win. Zach’s never been on a team that didn’t just—dominate. In college, in the AHL, here in his first NHL season. It’s a fucking amazing feeling. The adrenaline is still buzzing under his skin, making his blood fizz, and he grins at everyone else, delighted in their successes. They’ve just beat the _franchise record_ for wins. They fucking rock, okay.

“Can I have another snack?” Josh asks, sidling up to him and then plopping down on the bench, pressed to his side. Zach isn’t exactly in the mood to deny him. Anyway, he has actually started bothering with iron supplements, and their next game isn’t for another three days, so really, what the hell, right.

Zach moans outright and grips onto the bench with both hands as Josh starts to suck, and the guys zero in on them immediately, because of course they do.

“Get a room,” Dubi calls, but it sounds like more of a joke than a serious request.

“Hang on,” Zach says, looking around, when Josh pulls back for a moment to take a breather. He’ll go for the other side in a moment, probably. “Do you guys all just know about this?” He’s never _asked_ , but he kind of figured Josh wasn’t sharing with the party at large.

“Um, yeah,” Cam says, shifting awkwardly. “Dude, you were _drafted_ by a vampire. Did you miss that?”

“Wait, Jarmo?”

“No, no. His scout? The dude who announces the picks.”

“ _Oh._ ”

Like, okay, Ville Siren both looks and sounds like a Bond villain, but Zach was really excited to be drafted and wasn’t exactly focusing on what his teeth looked like at the time. Forgive him for being distracted.

“Anyway, go ahead,” Jack says to Josh, motioning him on. “It’s all good.” He smiles, settling back into his stall, content. Zach lowkey wonders if he just wants to watch. Maybe he does—and if that’s the case, well. He kind of idolizes Jack, as a Michigan boy that made it, and also Jack’s had a shitty go of it in recent years and deserves nice things. So.

“Everyone cool?” Josh asks, and when no one protests, he shoves at Zach’s hockey pants and cup to get them out of the way and then sinks his fangs into the other side of Zach’s neck, and all Zach can do is lift his hips to help that process along and whimper out a cacophony of noises.

Everyone’s watching. No one seems to mind.

It’s not quite the “break the franchise record of wins” celebration he envisioned, but in a pinch, it’ll definitely do.


End file.
